Gaiety Company
by buttertroll
Summary: The Rossetti Troupe and the Executioner crisis on Moonbase. Are chintzy circus tricks enough to get out alive?


**Disclaimer: **Don't own it.

**OOOOO**

**Gaiety Company**

**OOOOO**

Tottering back and forth on the heels of her new manila boots, Peppita watched Gonnella haggle with the woman behind the counter with a half-lidded gaze, humming a blithe ditty as she willed time faster. Passers-by indigenous to Moonbase might have found the scene bizarre, but harlequins, make up, flashy colors and the like were commonplace to the girl, and she found the rude stares they received in regards to the aforementioned quite distasteful. What were they, circus freaks?

"Why not help a new business out, eh?" the green-clad clown asked the woman who had introduced herself as Sonora Boyle, placing his hands upon the cold metal counter and lifting himself off the ground, executing a perfect handstand. He tilted his head up, looked her right in the eyes, and continued: "We'll make it worth your while, you know. We'll endorse you right after our hit debut! Moonbase's finest sound equipment, eh?"

"Thwarting the emptiness of eternal darkness, a sound escapes into the depth of the ocean of stars, beckoning lost souls seeking solace within the void…" Quantestorie drawled with all necessary hand motions as he approached the counter and clasped his hands together after bowing his head. "A prayer is offered to the eidolons of old that remain adrift in this endless gloom, the sound touching their hearts, resonating throughout the galaxy as a harbinger of serenity everlasting."

"Same difference. That's what I said, wasn't it?" Gonnella questioned, letting his feet fall back to the ground and righting himself. "Well lady, whaddya say? Or do you have something against serenity everlasting?"

"No, no…" Sonora began, turning to face the long-haired man, "That was beautiful, sir. I daresay I have not heard such a lovely prose since my university days. I'll be right back. I think I may be able to work out a nice deal for you." With that, she disappeared into a back room.

"Wow, Quantestorie!" Peppita exclaimed, bouncing over to the minstrel and hugging him, "I had no idea you could do that! Did you use Alphalian mind control or something? I thought she would never give in!"

"Oh beautiful goddess, you misunderstand. Kindred souls often bend for each other. Fate was kind to us, pushing this connoisseur of the arts out of her slumber and to her present post…"

"Glad to see you're modest, Mister Kindred," Gonnella grumbled through a frown. On the rare occasions he did break character from his gay raiment, one could see that his face was rough under the makeup, and that his eyes, tired and knowledgeable, glowed with a dull light above his round red nose. "I think I could have won her over, eventually. I mean," he began, once again grinning, his dimples a distraction from his scarred face, "who doesn't like a clown, eh?"

"I dunno Gonnella…" Peppita began, smiling at him over the silk fabric of Quantestorie's pale yellow sleeves, "I hear some people are scared of clowns. Mama says that sometimes they're too mera… mera… merasticious."

"Meretricious, little goddess." Quantestorie corrected melodically as he playfully pulled one of the girl's downy, platinum blonde pigtails.

Gonnella pouted dramatically. "You guys are too cruel." His communicator rang before he could try any more of the sad clown act and he pulled it out of his rather large pockets before raising it to his face. "Gonnella here."

"Is everything all right?" Dulciena asked sternly as soon as the connection was established.

"Hi mama!" Peppita exclaimed before anyone could answer the circus mistress.

"The three of you have been gone for hours—and hello Peppita darling." Her voice became gentler as she addressed her daughter, although it did not belie her irritation.

"We've been all over Moonbase trying to get a good deal on some replacement equipment." Gonnella told the woman, sighing. "Some people just don't get how strapped for cash beginning superstars can be, eh."

"So I take it we'll just be yelling most of the night?" She asked, disappointed. "At least pick us up a megaphone, okay?"

"No, no," Gonnella amended, although he couldn't help but grin at Dulciena's wry humor—it really only surfaced when they were at rock bottom. "Quantestorie just got us a deal in that weird little way of his (at this the Alphalian man huffed). We're actually here waiting for our kind sponsor to come out here with the paperwork."

As if on queue the woman in question stepped out to the front desk and the clown handed his communicator to Peppita, who began to chatter animatedly to her adoptive mother—Peppita thanked the woman again and again for letting her wear her new performance outfit before the show. It was off-white with deep green and russet embellishments—Quantestorie had called her a "wood nymph" when she sashayed out from behind her changing curtain, and Gonnella was inclined to agree with the comparison. She even had a crown of laurels which Dulciena wove into her locks. "It goes so well with my hair!" Gonnella heard the girl exclaim before he turned his attention to the proprietor.

"Your down payment's going to be in the neighborhood of fifty percent higher than usual—BUT," she said with no room for opposition as Gonnella began to open his mouth in offense, "if you look at the contract you'll see that I've allowed you plenty of time to actually pay." Her well-manicured index finger hovered over the page until it landed on the due date of the last payment. Gonnella raised his painted eyebrows in approval—they had nearly five years to pay for the equipment in full.

"You're too kind," he said apologetically, somewhat embarrassed at his initial outrage.

"Now then, sign here, here, and here," she ordered, circling each indicated space with a blue ballpoint pen before handing it over to Gonnella.

"You know, these will double as autographs within a week." The clown said as he embellished his signatures with squiggles and stars, then doodled a caricature of himself by each one.

"I can only hope so," she said, looking queerly at the childish signatures. "When would you like to have them delivered, Mr. Gonnella?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Dulciena spoke up from the communicator in Peppita's hands. She then bid her daughter and employees goodbye, muttering something about having heard Ursus fall down.

"Tomorrow afternoon then, eh?" Gonnella repeated before wishing Ms. Boyle a pleasant day and plucking his communicator out of Peppita's loose grip, shuffling his troubadour and little lady out of the establishment.

With agility fit for a thief he had managed to slip a ticket into her low-cut blouse before they made their exit.

**OOOOO**

Gonnella stretched his arms skywards (or, in the case of Moonbase, spacewards) before folding them behind his neck and letting out a relieved sigh. "Well, that's one worry out of my mind. Now if only there was a way to guarantee I won't fall off the trapeze and break my neck, eh?"

"Oh you'll be fine, Gonnella," Peppita reassured him as she turned around to smile at him, walking backwards on the tips of her toes. Quantestorie glided in front of her to make sure she did not stumble over any other pedestrians.

"Our surviving equipment has been through a lot, you know. Being beamed up and down and left and right into who knows what kinds of Pangalactic emergency storage dumps…" Gonnella mused aloud, thinking of the unnecessary abuse their already aging paraphernalia must have gone through.

Peppita frowned, her lips puckering as a very dark V materialized between her brows. "Well it's not like we have the money to buy an entirely new circus. Papa doesn't even get to perform in the debut because Quantestorie had to… to…"

"Lead our fearsome beasts to the afterlife with an ephemeral siren song…" Quantestorie continued quietly; however, his back was turned to the other two performers and they did not hear him or his melancholy.

The dancing girl turned around and stared at her feet as they stepped in turn with the minstrel's metronomic, mustard-colored plait, the deep red ribbon that held it in place fluttering in the artificial atmosphere of Moonbase. It was no fault of their own that they had to leave the animals behind when they evacuated Hyda IV. Her parents had explained to her that it was the humane thing to do, but she saw the primal fear in their eyes before Quantestorie shut the door behind him, and she heard their growls as their claws scraped against the bars of their cages to lash out at their svelte reaper. For a moment she allowed herself to wonder how Quantestorie did it (Ursus had tried to hand the lithe man tranquilizers, but Gonnella had simply shook his head at the giant man and turned to watch Quantestorie with intrigue), but she could not fathom past his first tentative steps towards the maws of the beasts.

The troupe made their way down to the tram stations in amiable silence, the jingling of Peppita's bangles barely ringing over the din of commerce as they swiped their two-way passes through the ticket scanner and began their journey back to the hotel. Federation Station #5 (affectionately referred to as Moonbase solely by its residents before the nickname propagated) was divided into sectors aptly named for their function. For example, Peppita and company were presently in the Commerce Zone, which housed the majority of the station's commercial products, although every sector contained several general stores for the necessities (food, water, clothing, and, as of late, Federation issued firearms—big enough for home defense, too small for an uprising). Their destination was the Recreational Zone, where there was a large park that sustained its own eco system and a single hotel meant to house traveling scientists and other such Federation Brass. The Rossetti Troupe was whimsical, but they were not stupid—they harbored no dreams of tourists pouring in to see their debut, especially in these dangerous times. Peppita had figured this out by herself, and when she first thought to mention it, she saw that everybody already knew. She was offended that they spared her feelings—she was already "old for her age" and subsequently felt she could handle some realities. However, to spare _their_ feelings, she bounced around like a child, chattering excitedly about her debut.

There were two lines of trams that ran between each sector, but it was entirely possible to walk between most of Moonbase's zones, by either the civilian roads or the catwalks inside of every tram tunnel. When the transporter had zoomed toward the Commerce Zone before the Rossetti Troupe began their quest to replace their ruined sound system and paraphernalia, Peppita had seen a bunch of men out on the outside of the tunnel who were fortifying the structure. She wondered if it was just paranoia, or if the Vendeeni really would attack so close to Sol III, the heart of humanity and the Federation.

There was a rumble in the distance and Peppita lost her balance, stumbling onto Quantestorie and sending the both of them to the cold, metallic ground. "Oh I'm so sorry Quantestorie!" she exclaimed, rolling off of him and back flipping to her feet. She bent down to help him up, but Gonnella was already kneeling down on the floor beside the fallen Alphalian, his gloved hands on the skinnier man's midsection as he lifted him back to his feet.

"And what malevolent force approaches, having stolen the wings of angels who then fall from Paradise?" Quantestorie asked to himself, swaying back and forth in Gonnella's embrace, his dark blue eyes widening and looking around but not quite registering his surroundings.

"Did he hurt his head?" Peppita asked as she stepped closer to the pair and looked up at Quantestorie's quivering pupils.

"We need to get out of here, kid," Gonnella began, looking at the man he held with pity in his eyes and a wan smile. He grabbed Peppita's hand and dragged Quantestorie forward, the taller man almost tripping over himself in his stupor. "When he gets like this I've found it's in everybody's best interest to just do as he says." There was no explanation, although Peppita wanted to demand one.

It was then that the girl noticed that the troubadour's mouth was moving. She was too short to hear what he was saying, but he was like a rag doll in Gonnella's arms and the clown's frantic pace eventually bent the other man down like a lowercase r, his sandy plait and maroon ribbons swaying in sync with his head as his lips repeatedly opened and puckered to quietly articulate "Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout…"

"GET OUT!" It was shrill and animalistic, and it took both Gonnella and his ward a moment to realize that Quantestorie had been the one to scream it. It drew the attention of everyone mulling about the station, and a Federation soldier reclining on the wall near the ticket machine straightened himself and approached them.

"Err, hello sir." Gonnella muttered, glancing at the soldier before turning his attention back to Quantestorie, who had gone eerily silent but was still shaking. Peppita looked at his uniform in awe as she did with all Federation soldiers, thinking what she always thought—_does he know my father? _

"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly, although his face expressed an unmistakable dislike for the public disturbance. "I'm Private Griffin. Is there anything I can help you with?" He stretched a large hand out toward Quantestorie's shoulder, which was now bare due to his loose, v-necked blouse sliding off of the left half of his torso as they were shuffling toward the exit. The troubadour recoiled before suddenly launching himself at Griffin, who had been too surprised to draw his gun.

Quantestorie pulled the lapels of Griffin's uniform toward him, standing on the toes of his boots as he moved his lips to the private's ear. "I proclaim the will of the Enforcers. Irregularities. Cognizant and mutinous. You will drown in your own blood. The will of the creator is absolute. The will of the creator is absolute. The will of the creator is absolute…" His eyes were dilated and far, far away as he whispered this litany, and his voice not his own.

Griffin violently threw the troubadour down, visibly disturbed. "Enforcers… not here… please, not so soon." he muttered.

Twitching before sitting up, Quantestorie looked back up at the soldier with empty eyes. Blood trickled down from his left nostril and into his mouth as he whispered a final question before regaining what little sensibilities he had moments ago. "GET OUT!" he screamed again, and Peppita wondered who exactly he was addressing.

A tram going much too fast whizzed by the station, leaving a trail of sparks. It skidded to a halt as it twisted to lie perpendicular to its track, effectively clogging the tube that connected the Commerce and Residential zones. A beam of white light struck its center, bending it into a capital V that poked sideways out of the tunnel. At this Griffin snapped out of his daze and pulled out his communicator. Peppita couldn't hear what he was saying over the crackling of the tram and the sudden chaos that had erupted in the station, but he looked terrified. She looked down at Quantestorie who, having finally gone silent, was staring at the blood on his hand after a failed attempt to wipe his nose (there was now a big red smear across his face, and on any other day she would have laughed). Gonnella handed him a hideous violet and puce handkerchief before helping him up. She allowed herself a smile, as it was funny—they were in a circus, after all—but she couldn't help drawing herself back to Quantestorie's final question:

_What would you ask of death?_

It was in his deep and melodic drawl, and it frightened Peppita.

"Listen," Griffin yelled over the alarm, holding his communicator set to amplify to his mouth, "get outside the station and wait for the base-wide PA. We're closing off the trams and getting our boys out in the civilian spacewalks. Stay together and don't panic."

Gonnella took the free hands of both his companions and led them out of the station with the other civilians. There were fourteen of them including the Rossetti Troupe, and each of their twenty-two eyes looked at Quantestorie warily. "What's the matter, eh?" Gonnella asked angrily. "Haven't you curmudgeons ever been to the circus?"

Peppita did a curtsy and smiled to lighten the mood, but no one aside from a girl no older than four smiled back. Quantestorie was still somewhat entranced. "How doth the little crocodile…" he began, but Gonnella pinched the inside of his arm. Hard. He yelped and fell silent.

**OOOOO**

The forthcoming announcement Private Griffin referenced was short and to the point, perhaps because the majority of Moonbase's population was involved with the government in some way, whether it be as scientist, soldier, or spouse. New entities that identified themselves Enforcers had began a series of unprovoked attacks on Federation and Aldian forces alike, condemning infidels before obliterating all that stood in their way. Their initial attacks had happened so far away that the Federation believed they had time to fortify Sol III and its satellite colonies, but the creatures traveled at a speed unfathomable until recently. The fact that they hadn't sublimated Moonbase meant that perhaps there was something there they desired in one piece. All civilians were to report to the amphitheatre in the Recreational Zone for a headcount while all Federation personal not assigned to look after civilians remain under lockdown in their laboratories.

A group of five Federation soldiers intercepted the Rossetti Troupe and their band of civilians shortly after they abandoned the tram station and made their way to the spacewalk—long and sturdy roads between sectors meant for pedestrian travel, although there were strips of moving road to either side should anyone tire or otherwise be unable to continue. The soldiers informed them that the aforesaid strips were not functioning in favor preserving power for shields and medical equipment. All lights outside of the Recreational and Research Zones would be shut off shortly in the interest of preservation as well, they explained as they led the group to Spacewalk #4 which was on the opposite end of the zone. Spacewalk #3 going to the Recreational Zone was sealed off due to all layers being damaged.

"You see," Private First Class Leon, the most personable out of the five soldiers (also the cutest, Peppita noticed), explained, "the spacewalks are like tubes inside of tubes. If there is a single crack in the outer layer, the layer beneath that is robbed of oxygen until the vacuum of space hits another tube. The vacuum is easy to detect, and when we do, we just go out there and slap a Galactic Band-Aid on the crack." He laughed weakly at his own joke, but it did draw out a few smiles.

Peppita giggled more than she should have, but she thought it was sweet how he was trying to get people to laugh—the best medicine, her papa would say.

"Will it be safe to be in the Spacewalk with these… these…_ things_ skulking about?" The inquiry came from the dark-haired mother of the only child in the group. She held the child in question close to her heart, her bags of groceries setting at her feet.

"Were they angels, mister?" Peppita heard the little girl ask.

Leon opened his mouth to answer the woman, but his superior, Sergeant Thomas Grun, placed a firm hand on his shoulder and shook his head. "The nature of these Execu—_anomalies_—is actually quite passive. They are here looking for something, perhaps someone. As long as we stay quiet and out of sight, I believe they will let us by. We have men at each end of our designated Spacewalks, and communication is up for now, so the quicker we get through them the better." Leon gawked at him as if to say _you liar_, but the stern look with which he was met silenced him.

At this the group of fourteen stirred, gathering up their things and getting ready to follow the soldiers. Quantestorie was dozing on Gonnella's shoulder and the clown nudged him awake. His eyes fluttered ("Like a waking princess…" Peppita joked to Gonnella as she offered her hand to either of them) and it took him a moment to register where he was before taking hold of Peppita's proffered hand to lift himself off the ground. "You are too kind, gracious goddess."

"Oh, good to see you're back to normal!" Peppita beamed, taking comfort in her friend's recovery. Quantestorie tilted his head quizzically.

"Why not forgo mentioning that, little miss?" Gonnella whispered to her as she helped him up. "Time and place, eh?"

The girl frowned at him indignantly, the dark V between her brows exacerbated by how drained she looked. She hated being kept from things just because she was a child.

"Mommy I'm tired." The little girl whined as her mother tried to put her down to pick up her groceries. Gonnella approached them slowly and offered to help the woman carry her goods. She accepted, somewhat surprised that the clown was the first one to ask.

"What's her name?" Peppita asked as she moved to walk abreast to Gonnella, peeking over the groceries to smile at the little girl.

"Can you tell them your name, sweetie?" The woman cooed to her daughter, who was suddenly quite shy. "Her name is Sophie," she said after Sophie's face buried itself in the crook of her mother's neck, blushing at the attention. "And I'm Maya Wong."

"Nice to meet you! I'm the Fairy of Illusions, Peppita Rossetti!" She curtseyed. "And these are my faithful companions, Gonnella the Clown and Quantestorie the Troubadour! I'm sure you're coming to our show on Saturday."

"Don't mind the little miss, Miss Wong." Gonnella interjected. "She's just excited for our debut."

"You know," Maya began, "I feel so silly for not figuring it out sooner—I guess an alien invasion would do that to you—but I was wondering why the three of you were dressed so strangely. My husband bought tickets and…" she froze up, holding Sophie tighter. "Oh god Clark." She whispered softly, the reality of the situation having just hit her, almost physical as she slumped forward slightly, Sophie's head tilting with her.

"I'm sure he's okay." Peppita offered. "Sergeant Grun said there weren't any casualties outside of what we all saw at the station—you'll see him at the Recreational Zone." She didn't see Gonnella's painted lips purse as he shook his head. "We were on Hyda IV before it was attacked—whatever these things are, they can't be that dangerous if we're still here."

"Peppita," Gonnella began, and it was rare that he ever called her by name, "stop it."

"No, thank you," Maya said apologetically. "He should be safe—all the scientists are in their own shelters already." She adjusted Sophie, relieving her left arm of the girl's weight.

Peppita glared at Gonnella, as if was his responsibility as a clown to not let reality bring him down. Fairy of Illusions, indeed. He tilted his head toward Quantestorie. The man in question had veered away from their group to look out into space, once again in a trance. As Gonnella was occupied with Maya's groceries, Peppita jogged over to the lithe man, taking him by the hand. "Little goddess," he mumbled as she strained to hear him, "the chains that bind us dangle from the hands of puppeteers. To say right is to welcome the bliss of oblivion." She led him back to Gonnella, quizzical and wanting answers.

"He'll pick up on things," the clown began before Peppita could articulate her question, "kinda like a living antenna, eh. Good things, bad things… _weird_ things."

The girl gasped at Gonnella's audacity. "He's right here!"

"No he isn't." The clown amended bluntly. "And would you really want to talk behind his back, eh?"

She looked away, embarrassed. Still holding her hand, Quantestorie hummed a song she didn't recognize. "Do Papa and Mama know?"

"They all do."

"…does _he_ know?"

"Funny you should ask that, eh," and at this Gonnella chuckled. "It made him a bit of an outcast on Elda III—he'd incorporate people's _personal lives_ into his songs simply because he thought he dreamed them. He was kind of infamous. Some people wouldn't even go near him, and you know how gregarious Alphalians are—I'm glad we met when we did; he might have died of loneliness." Gonnella paused to look over at Quantestorie, nostalgic for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth again: "So, I guess you can say he knows about it, but he can't really acknowledge it happening until he finally snaps out of it, be it minutes or hours or days later. What I find ironic is that he's the center of attention when he's not even around to enjoy it, eh."

"How strange," Maya interjected. "My husband would be interested in something like this—his doctorate thesis was not unlike what you just described. He and several of his colleagues hypothesized that some individuals can 'tap' into a sort of collective living database, like a universal hard drive. Some of his data came from Elda III, along with other planets more in tune with nature, such as Expel and Roak. Expellians are particularly susceptible."

"That's so neat," Peppita said, although the dread she felt over Quantestorie's previous 'tap into the universe's hard drive' did not dissipate. "I guess he's what people would call a psychic?"

"That would be the closest word," Maya answered. "However, I think the term is a bit archaic. I'm not sure about the two of you, but all I think of when I hear it is an old crone and a crystal ball."

Peppita laughed. "Yeah, me too. She also has grey hair and warts."

"Ewwww." Sophie crooned.

"I don't think Quantestorie would like the connotation, either," Gonnella agreed, nodding his head at the little girl.

The conversation halted at a commotion in the front of their group, and the five Federation soldiers drew their weapons.

"Guns down, men," Sergeant Grun ordered, lowering his hand. "It's just one of the Mini-Flys we deployed to scan the base." He pulled out what looked like a radar detector and scanned the levitating mechanical ball. "Mini-Fly unit 01-1646, status report."

It buzzed back to him impertinently, whirring a moment before the red light on its faceplate began to flash, a preamble to a nearly deafening alarm. "INFIDELS FOUND APPROACHING SPACEWALK #4, COORDINATES 100, 005—COMMERCE ZONE. THE WILL OF THE CREATOR IS ABSOLUTE. THE WILL OF THE CREATOR IS ABSOLUTE. THE WILL OF THE CREATOR IS ABSOLUTE. THE WILL—"

Leon shot it out of the air during its maddening litany, much to the shock of the entranced and horrified civilians. Sophie started to cry.

"Private, what in the hell are you doing?" Grun screamed at him, placing his large hands on either side of Leon's neck. The remaining three soldiers held him back before he could inflict any harm.

"It was calling for help!" Leon returned weakly, having thought himself a goner just seconds ago. "Enough of this. Communication is down. There are no guards outside of what's left at the amphitheatre. And _those_," he spat, sweeping his free hand out to gesture at the machine he had just destroyed, "are no longer ours."

There were thirteen civilian gasps, and as if fueled by their shock Grun broke free of his three subordinates to punch Leon in the stomach. Sophie cried harder, and Maya cooed into her ear. Peppita scowled and Gonnella shifted the groceries to his right arm, using his left to steady the girl by her shoulder before she could voice her indignation. "You can't just let him do that!" she hissed at Gonnella. Quantestorie, in what might have been a passing state of lucidity, agreed with the girl:

"These denials of reality mayhap present more strife than reality itself."

They jumped at his melodious drawl, and Peppita was first to recover. "Thank you, Quantestorie."

"You back?" Gonnella asked, as if he wanted to know the weather.

"I believe so," he answered. "Was I much trouble?"

"Well, you didn't end up on top of the Earthling Embassy again, so I'm not complaining."

The troubadour turned as red as his ribbons. Peppita wanted to say more, but there was so much she did not know she couldn't articulate it. Irritated at her own ignorance, she turned her attention to her surroundings. The Commerce Zone was just a large, multilayered box, and she and her companions were near the bottom right corner of it, presumably on their way to Spacewalk #4, which would take them to the ostensible safety of the Recreational Zone. There were bright neon signs that advertised nearly everything she could think of ever wanting. Some department stores even had robotic mannequins that would move around like real models, sashaying up and down catwalks, infusing the product with a dramatic flair that no buyer ever would. She was watching one in a very outlandish outfit pause to curtsey before twirling and fanning out the blue and orange skirt along with its yellow feather boa. Unimpressed, she followed the next one as it made its way down the catwalk with meaningful steps—it was then that she realized the real product on display was the shoes, which were black, five-inch espadrilles with precariously thin straps that ran all the way up to the mannequin's kneecaps. _Now those are some scary shoes_, she thought as she imagined trying to dance in them. The next robotic model was not on a catwalk, and it certainly wasn't very fashionable. It clanked and clomped down the metallic street with gracelessness not unlike an angry bull. It stopped as if it were looking for something that was no longer there, and at this Peppita jumped.

"What's wrong?" Gonnella asked her when he saw her tense. She pointed to the bipedal robot. "…Oh." It whirred and turned to face the group of station survivors and the remains of the Mini-Fly unit that had been screeching so violently moments before. It readied its riot shield and activated the power on its sword, the crackling of electricity cutting through the din of arguments among the humans as they turned to face it with wide eyes.

Sergeant Grun stepped forward, once again pulling out his scanner. "Incapacitator unit 01-1825, stand down." He ordered. Leon looked away. Unit 01-1825 charged forward and cleaved the man in half.

**OOOOO**

**Comments: **…cliffhanger. :P

Probably only one more part, maybe two if more than what I have planned makes itself known to me.

I'm taking liberty with Quantestorie (I feel vision induced histrionics suit him), but if you do a little digging most of Gonnella's actions (which will be more apparent in part 2) are true to what the game implies.

Unbeta'd but perused several times—do tell me if I've made a mistake.

Reviews are nice.


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